


Wrong

by bottles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Past Abuse, Self Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:23:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottles/pseuds/bottles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis needs to be punished, because he keeps fucking everything up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> (Edited 2013-12-21)

Louis’s biggest worry when he's going to sing on the x factor isn’t if the judges are going to like him or if he will forget the lyrics. The only thing that goes through his mind when he walks out on that stage is _what if my sleeves roll up?_ , and he holds them down with a death grip throughout his whole audition. And when it's finally over, he doesn't think about the fact that he just got through and that he actually got three yeses. The only thing he can think of is how bad he sounded and how he messed up the whole song. And Louis locks himself in a bathroom and does the only thing that will make his anxiety more bearable.

When they tell him that he's going home, the only thing he can think of is just how deep he wants to dig the razor blade into his arms and thighs and how long he wants to hold a lighter to his skin, because once again, he is a failure. Always a fucking failure.

But before he can even run off to the bathroom, he is told that he needs to get back on stage, and when he discovers that he's been put together in a band with four other guys, he can't stop the rush of joy that pulsates through his body. He lets go of every horrible thought that keeps him in check and jumps into the curly haired boy’s arms. Afterwards he punishes himself for being such a faggot. He knows better than to act like this - especially on national television.

He spends the night in a hotel room getting to know the other guys. They are nice and funny and just everything Louis isn't and he tries to act the way he thinks they want him to be. He catches himself looking over to Harry a few too many times and he has to pinch his wrists really hard to distract himself from those chocolate curls.

Every time they come back from practice, Louis excuses himself to the bathroom, saying he needs a shower. He stands under the water for only a few minutes before stepping out, but keeping the water on. He needs to punish himself, but he can't let the others know how much of a failure he really is. He is desperate to get the picture of soft curly hair and a dimpled smile out of his head. So desperate that he digs the razor deeper and deeper into his flesh each night. He needs to stop thinking like this. He knows better. He was taught better.

Sometimes he cuts so deep that he is certain that he needs stitches, but he just wraps some gauze really tightly around the wound until it starts to heal.

Six whole weeks goes by before anyone says something. It's a harmless question really, Liam only asks him why he's always wearing long sleeves, but Louis turns into an anxious mess and stutters out something about not liking t-shirts.

Louis does not only punish himself for having _those thoughts_. Everything he does wrong deserves punishment. Every time his voice cracks and every time he says something wrong and every time he acts like he isn’t supposed to. Like he was taught not to.

Louis needs to punish himself, because his father isn’t there anymore to do it for him. When his dad went to jail for drug dealing when he was fourteen, the last thing he said to his son was _don’t forget to punish yourself if you fuck up, Louis. Every time you think about having a pretty boy’s cock up that arse of yours, you need to punish yourself. Remember that, son._

And Louis remembers. How can he not? Most days he just wants to slit his throat open to stop that high pitched voice from coming out of his mouth, and every time his thinks about doing stuff with Harry, he wants to cut of his own fucking cock. It isn’t right. He shouldn’t think of Harry - or any other boy - the way he does. It is wrong and he is wrong and everything is just so fucking wrong.

When they get voted out of the x factor; ending in third place, he puts a lighter to his thighs and lets the flame kiss his skin until they are littered with really nasty burns and he can’t wear his usual tight jeans for several days. It is all his fault. If he wasn’t so absolutely useless, they would have won the competition.

One week after leaving the x factor, the next question comes up. They are changing clothes before an interview, and Niall asks him why he never changes in front of the rest. He only says that he has to use the toilet anyways, and why not change when he already has his pants down? Niall only shrugs.

A couple more weeks go by and everything just gets harder and harder. Harry is always hugging him and touching him and complimenting him and he has to punish himself even harder than before, because he finds himself liking it and leaning into Harry’s touch each time he puts a hand to Louis’ cheek. It is wrong and he needs to be punished.

They are always busy, and spring goes by so, so fast. It’s summer again and it’s crazy that he’s been in this band for almost a year now. No one asks him why he wears long sleeves during the winter, because everyone does that. But the days are getting hotter and hotter and when they all hanging out on Liam’s balcony, Zayn asks him why he’s not wearing a t-shirt - like the others. He says that he still thinks it’s a bit chilly and Zayn accepts the answer. It’s only may, and it’s still okay to wear sweaters.

Harry’s hands somehow always brush against Louis’ fingers and Louis always shivers at the feeling and tries not to think about how his stomach is practically a butterfly farm nowadays. Harry doesn’t seem annoyed when he takes away his hand - only a bit sad - and that makes Louis want to punish himself even more.

He is really good friends with everyone now and it is a really weird feeling, because he has never ever had anyone to share anything with before. Somehow he starts to believe them when they compliment his voice and tell him that it is okay if he stumbles during dance practice, and he doesn’t have to punish himself as much anymore.

One night when he goes to bed, he starts to think about Harry and he’s absolutely horrified when he feels himself getting hard. His cock is pulsating with the need to be touched - to be touched by Harry - and he has to bang his head against the walls and pull at his hair and pinch himself until he is covered by dark puckered bruises. He has to burn the insides of his thighs and bite down on his hand really hard to keep himself from screaming, just to make the need for Harry die down and make all this wrongness disappear from his body.

Harry kisses him the day their first single is being released and Louis spends the night and the whole next day in the bathroom, on the verge on passing out from blood loss.

Harry and Louis don’t talk to each other for a week. Harry looks so, so sad and Louis hates himself so much for being the cause of Harry’s pain. The other boys give him angry looks and frankly, he deserves them. He has caused all this pain and everything is just his fault. And once again he is just a huge failure.

Two weeks without talking to Harry goes by and it is absolutely killing him. He loathes himself so much for missing Harry’s touch and Harry’s smell and Harry’s voice and just Harry, Harry, _Harry_.

One night, someone is knocking on Louis’ door and he is completely speechless when he opens it and finds Harry standing outside his flat. He gestures for Harry to come in, and all this anxiety almost makes him throw up, because surely Harry’s come here say that they don’t want him to be in the band anymore; that they all hate him and that he is just a disgusting faggot and, _oh God_ , Harry hates him.

”I thought you liked me,” Harry blurts out, and Louis is surprised. This is not what he expected. Harry sounds so vulnerable and it really doesn’t suit him.

”I-I do. I do like you,” Louis whispers.

”Then why? Why Louis? I thought all the hugs and the touching and the flirting and everything meant something. God, I’m such an idiot,” Harry rambles.

”I’m sorry. I-I’m so fucking sorry. I like you. I like you s-so, so much, Harry. But I. I can’t-, I’m not-, no-, I ca-”

”I don’t care what people say Lou. I love you.” Harry interrupts.

”I-, it’s not-, you don’t understand. I can’t-, it’s-, I’m not allowed,” Louis says, a broken sob tearing through his chest.

”What do you mean you’re not allowed, Lou? Of course you’re fucking allowed. You don’t need permission to be with someone!” Harry almost yells.

”H-Harry, please. Listen, I c-c-can’t be with you, okay? Fuck, I r-really, really want to. I’m just so f-fucking wrong, s-so disgusting, so wr-rong, I c-can’t-” Louis throat closes up and he slumps down to the floor in a sobbing mess.

”Shit, Lou. Fuck. What’s wrong? What do you mean? You’re not wrong, you’re not disgusting. You’re wonderful and beautiful and God, so damn perfect,” Harry says while trying to calm Louis down. ”Lou, please, you need to breath. Okay? Just breath, nice and slow. Yeah, that’s right. Keep breathing.”

Louis can’t really comprehend what’s happening right now and the only thing that is grounding him is Harry's voice and his sharp nails digging into his wrist. He is calmer now, but he can’t stop shaking with the need to just slice his body into a million pieces, and he refuses to look up and see the disgust in Harry’s eyes.

”Shit, Louis. You’re bleeding,” Harry says while grabbing his wrist. Louis tries to yank his arm away but the damage is already done because Harry has already pushed his sleeve up and he’s already seen all those cuts and scars and burns and bruises that cover his arm like ugly tattoos.

”Get out,” Louis says, and his voice is a lot calmer than he expected.

”L-Lou, wha-”

”Get the fuck out, Harry!” Louis yells and crawls as far away from Harry as he can.

”Lou, plea-”

”Just get the fuck out! Can’t you understand what I’m saying? Get out, get out, _get out_!” Louis yells.

Louis has never been this desperate for a lighter or a razor blade before and he is absolutely not going to live through this night. He is so fucking done with his life. He can’t go on like this anymore.

Harry rushes forward engulfs him into a bone crushing hug. Louis uses every bit of strength that he has left in his body to wrench himself from Harry’s arms, but Harry is stronger and even though Louis screams and fights and kicks, Harry does not let go of him. Finally he slumps against Harry’s chest with a defeated sob and Harry rocks them back a forth while running a hand up and down Louis' back.

”I love you, Louis. I love you so fucking much. We’re going to fix this, okay? We’re going to get through this and everything’s going to be fine. I’m going to do everything I can to make you feel better. Everything is going to be okay, I promise you. You’re going to be okay,” Harry whispers, and Louis really, really wants to just nod and say _yeah, everything’s going to be perfectly alright_ , but he doesn’t because he knows he’s too far gone at this point.


End file.
